LOGINThe moment Alexander Hall slid the diamond onto my ring finger, I almost let myself believe I was about to become Mrs. Hall. We had been together for five years. He knew perfectly well that I was a gold digger through and through, that I loved anything shiny and expensive. But he also remembered my chronic stomach problems. He had once put the keys to a Manhattan apartment in my hand and told me that from then on, that was where I would be safe. Just a week earlier, he had measured my ring size himself and teased me, telling me to guess what the diamond was worth. I laughed and told him he knew me too well, but in private, I carefully circled the date on my calendar. At 18, I'd been beaten black and blue by my stepfather over a box of sanitary pads. That was when I stopped pretending money didn't matter. I loved money. I loved beautiful clothes that fit like a dream. But more than anything, I loved being able to buy what I wanted without having to answer to anyone. In New York's high society, I had a reputation for knowing exactly how to keep Alexander happy. They also said I was the one woman he couldn't bring himself to let go. The ring sat snugly on my finger. He waited until every eye in the room was on us, then spoke slowly, his voice perfectly flat. "This is a thank-you, Irene. We're done." The ballroom doors opened, and in walked Lydia Grant, dressed in a flowing cream-colored gown. Alexander presented her to the guests as his fiancée. Lydia gave me a timid glance, as though she were the one who'd just had five years of her life stolen. Then she actually had the nerve to come over and offer me comfort. Everyone there was waiting for me to fall apart. Plenty of them had settled in for the show, expecting me to make a scene over the apartment, the jewelry, or an engagement that had never been real. Instead, I slid the diamond off my finger and placed it gently in Alexander's palm. As for the money he'd given me to walk away? I wasn't returning a penny. "Save the ring for the woman who wants to marry you." I smiled. "But the money? That's mine." For the first time, Alexander's mask of composure slipped. Even now, he couldn't seem to wrap his head around it. How could a woman who loved money as much as I did walk away from a diamond worth a fortune?
View MoreA year flew by, and I had a larger floor-to-ceiling window installed in my studio.The walls were covered with photos clients had sent of their restored wedding rings, and two plants I was struggling to keep alive sat on the windowsill. Brooklyn winters were still bitterly cold, and on mornings when I overslept, I'd shuffle around the apartment in my slippers, hunting for the socks I'd tossed aside.Even with savings now, I hadn't changed one bit. When I saw a bag I liked, I still asked the price. When I saw a stunning piece of jewelry at an auction preview, I still stayed up half the night poring over the catalog.Alexander came with me to an auction preview once. Standing in front of the glittering display cases, he smiled and offered to buy me a necklace."Let's wait and see." My eyes stayed on the cut of the stone. "For that price, I'd rather upgrade my restoration equipment first.""You're not crazy about jewelry anymore?""I still love it." I glanced at him. "I just like buying t
We saw each other a few more times after that, but we didn't rush into living together again.Sometimes we had dinner on weekends. Sometimes Alexander came by to pick up a piece I'd finished and walked with me for a while. We bickered about how hard it was to get a reservation, and we laughed out loud, too. He still wasn't used to me insisting on charging him my full rate, and I had no intention of giving him a lifetime free pass."After five years together, I still don't get a discount?" he joked once."Did you forget how things ended the last time I gave you special treatment?"He raised both hands in surrender. "Fine. Full price."I could see that he was changing. But I knew the real test came when other people were around.Every year in late spring, the Hall family gathered for a commemorative family photograph in the hotel's old exhibition hall, inviting relatives and major donors.For five years, I'd attended every time, repairing loose earrings, adjusting the lighting to reduce
That spring, I restored an old pair of wedding rings for an elderly woman.The rings weren't expensive. An anniversary date was engraved inside the bands, nearly worn away. When she came to pick them up, she brought along a yellowed note her husband had written when he was young. She smoothed it out carefully to show me."We've spent our whole lives arguing," she said with a gentle smile. "Two years ago, during one of our fights, he threw his ring onto the floor. He regretted it terribly afterward. Now that it's fixed, we're going out for dinner this weekend."I couldn't help laughing. "Then you'd better tell him not to throw a ring next time.""I told him if he has to throw one, it had better be his own." She put on her ring and admired it in the mirror for a long time.Before leaving, she asked about my love life. When I told her things had been complicated, she waved a hand kindly."Take your time. Don't rush to settle things just because you want an answer. Some things need to be w
Three months later, when I saw Victor outside the courthouse, I still couldn't stop shaking.He wore an ill-fitting coat, and for once, his hair was neatly combed. From a distance, he looked like any other middle-aged man. No stranger would have guessed what he was capable of. Some might even have mistaken him for a father who'd been unfairly judged by his daughter.Claire handed me a bottle of water. "Take your time. Nadia says we don't go in until it's our turn. There's no rush.""I know." I unscrewed the cap, but my throat was so dry I could barely swallow the first sip.When I was young, I worked up the courage to call the police once. At 18, I sat in a police station with his bruises still on my face and told them everything, forcing out every word. When I got home, Victor slammed his hand on the table and yelled that I had no business airing the family's dirty laundry.Now I was 28. I had my own lawyer, a safe place to live, and enough money to cover my medical bills. But the mom












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